


The Blind Spot

by Endangered_Slug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A bit of a modern Emma, All The Tropes, Along for the Ride Gold, Best Friends, Deliberately Obtuse Belle, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Just as corny as you are suspecting, Or ARE THEY MORE?, and it's all a mess, and possibly second thoughts, and stuff happens, and then funtimes!, because your brain hates you, but your heart is like GO ON!, desperately pining for your best friend, eventually, until it's not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-14 11:58:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7170140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endangered_Slug/pseuds/Endangered_Slug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from ashadeofpemberley: Belle and Gold play matchmaker between Jefferson and Alice, Gold's new assistant. Hilarity and broken pocket watches ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Belle stared out of the window, her chin propped up in one hand as she dreamily contemplated the couple standing just under the library awning, Jefferson Hatter and Alice Liddel, Mr. Gold’s new office manager.

It was, perhaps, outside the scope of a librarian’s duties, but she sort of liked the two of them together and thought that they would make a sweet couple and she wanted to do anything she could to bring them together. Jefferson and Alice, that is, not Alice and Mr. _Gold_. No one suited Mr. Gold, at least no one that Belle had met, personally. Not that she’d been looking… Okay, yes, she had been looking — off and on — but no one was good enough for him. She’d almost given up. _Almost_. Belle wasn’t a quitter. She’d find someone special for him some day.

But Alice and Jefferson… Jefferson and Alice… Yes, they would make a lovely couple.

A sly smile curled up on her face as the beginnings of a plan came through.

A very lovely couple indeed.

Alice had been in town barely a month, but Belle already liked her a lot. The woman was smart and funny and, best of all, loved books which, when you get right down to it, was all Belle needed to know to like a person. She was also cute as a button and unmarried — a fact Belle learned after discreet inquiry over margaritas during Girls’ Night.

Jefferson, a bit wild, a bit dangerous, and with a killer smile that made a girl’s knees go weak, had been severely unattached for longer than Belle liked. Not that it was any of her business. Not that it mattered to her personally, but she liked him and wanted to see him nicely settled. He certainly seemed happier now that Alice had moved to town. A fact that Belle had noticed with keen interest. The work was half done already.

The first order of business was recruitment and Belle knew precisely which person she needed to talk to to make things happen and that was Mr. Gold himself. She grabbed her phone and began dialing, but, after a second’s thought, closed the screen before she couldn’t press send. If Alice was outside with Jeff, then there was no one to stop her from barging into Mr. Gold’s office where he was probably working through lunch. He wouldn’t mind her intrusion if she brought hamburgers from Granny’s. She grabbed her purse, tossed the phone in and the library keys after them and called out to Archie, today’s volunteer and the most recent person to benefit from Belle’s inquisitive nature after she set him up with Ruby from the diner.

“I’m heading out for a bite to eat,” she called over her shoulder as she ran out the door. “Man the desk!” She skidded past Jefferson and Alice with a breathless, “Hey, guys!” and nearly floated across the street to Granny’s Diner where Ruby was just hanging up the phone.

“That’s two orders of hamburgers, one iced tea, one drip coffee to go, and double fries?” she asked, taking out her pad to scribble on it.

Belle stopped in her tracks, her mouth hanging open in surprise before she gasped out, “How did you _know_?”

Ruby just rolled her eyes. “Archie called. Said you were on your way here.”

“Oh. Oh, well, yes, but—”

“And you only come here when you’re going to eat with Mr. Gold.”

“Well, yeah—”

“And you always have the same thing,” Ruby finished, ripping a sheet of paper from her pad slapping it in the queue of orders where it dangled by a single corner. “One Lunch Date Special, Gus!” she called out, turning to get the drinks ready.

“Hey, Belle,” Gus yelled from the kitchen. “The burgers are already sizzling.”

Belle slumped her shoulders “Wow. I had no idea how predictable we were.”

“Oh, honey,” Ruby said, shaking her head at her as she scooped ice into a plastic cup. “We can read you two like a book.”

That intrigued Belle and she hopped up on a stool, bouncing eagerly. “That’s fascinating! What kind of book? A mystery? Adventure?”

“An _open_ one,” Ruby said, shoving the iced tea towards her. “Coffee’s brewing, it’ll just be a minute.”

* * *

 

Belle made her way into Gold’s without issue. Most of his staff were on their lunch break or meeting with clients elsewhere which mean Gold would either be stuck in his office behind a mountain of paperwork or he was berating someone over the phone. Sure enough, as she opened the large mahogany door to his office, his voice came booming out.

“I didn’t ask you to file them with the bloody city, I asked you to file them with the county. The _county_!”

A beat, then:

“It makes all the difference, Miss Blanchard. For fu—” He ran a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut in exasperation. “Look, get back here and make a copy of everything then go back to the _county_ this time and file it before close of business or you will be—”

A half a pause, then:

“No, Miss Blanchard, I assure you, this is precisely what I pay you for. Exactly this and you’ve cocked it up.

Belle gave him a stern look as she took the hamburgers out of the sack, placing them carefully on the tiny portion of his desk that wasn’t covered with paperwork, quietly listening while he gave very specific instructions lest any more mistakes happen. As bad as she felt for his paralegals when he got on a rampage, she loved it when his accent came out of hiding. It was never going to fade completely, but when he got emotional it thickened until it was almost impossible to understand.

She quickly scanned his office for any little changes since the last time she’d been in it three days before. It was a bit dusty, but he hadn’t added anything new to the glass-fronted bookcases, which were already filled with law books and which she’d already thumbed through in her curiosity. A lot of dry reading, but interesting in some parts. She’s always meant to ask him about a few cases mentioned in the footnotes, but for some reason or another, it slipped her mind.

No new knicknacks, no new books, no new girlfriend. It was a good thing he had her in his life to help liven it up. He’d probably live in his office if I didn’t drag him outside every so often, she thought as she slurped the last of her iced tea. I really have to find a woman for him.

Finally, he hung up the phone, slamming it into the receiver with a clatter. Then, for good measure, he picked it up and slammed it down again. He covered his face and groaned into his hands before wiping them down his mouth and chin. They fell to his lap and he looked at her, his eyes tired and stressed at the corners.

“Retirement can’t come soon enough,” he said, wearily, but there was a glimmer of a smile there to make Belle’s heart thump pleasantly in her chest.

“You love your job,” Belle said from around her straw.

“Not today.” He sat up, curling over the desk a bit as he jabbed at a fry. “Today I hate it.”

“Well, then you can retire and help me with my new project.”

He lifted his head up, eyeing her warily. “What is it this time?”

She took a deep breath, her smile feeling like it was going to split her face. “Jefferson and Alice.”

His blank stare was less than encouraging. “What about them?” he asked, lifting the bun off his burger and flicking off bits of lettuce that failed to please him.

“They’re perfect for each other!” she exclaimed, slamming her empty cup onto his desk.

A quick glance at her face before going back to his food to inspect the pickles. “Yes, I imagine so—”

“You think so, too!” she gasped, unable to contain her enthusiasm.

He looked at her nonplussed. “Uh…”

Belle leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk with her fingers. “I want to set them up!”

His forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Set them… up?”

“Yes!” Belle said, bouncing in her seat. “Jeff’s been single for way too long and Alice is adorable! Imagine their babies!”

“I will not,” he told her, adamantly, looking at her as if she lost her mind and was currently carrying it around in a pickle jar.

“Please?”

“ _No_.”

Her shoulders fell and she picked up her burger, sighing dramatically.

That was enough for him to heave a dramatic sigh of his own and roll his eyes at her. “If I think about their babies…” he began.

She perked right up, burger forgotten in her enthusiasm. “Do you think you can get Jeff to the Rabbit Hole tonight?” she asked, leaning over the desk.  
  


“I...don’t...know?”

“And I’ll invite Alice out as a girl’s thing and then we can just sort of bump into each other. Yeah?”

“Belle—”

“And obviously, they’ll couple up because she’s your manager and who wants to hang out with their boss?”

“I don’t think—”

“They deserve happiness, Gold,” she told him as sternly as she could manage.

“I don’t disagree, Belle, but—”

“Please?”

He stared at her, his cheek twitching, then he blinked and a crooked smile grew dangerously close to mischevious levels. “You want to set them up? As a couple?” he verified. “Romantically entangle themselves irrevocably.”

She looked up at the coffered ceiling in exasperation and relief that he was finally catching on. “Yes! They’d be perfect together,” she said, bringing her head back to rights again.

“And you need my help?”

“It would be easier with your help, yes,” she conceded.

A laugh sputtered out but he tamped it back down before it could grow into a full-blown guffaw. He looked entirely too amused. Suspiciously amused, but before Belle could do more than narrow her eyes at him he capitulated.

“Fine. What do I have to do?”

She shrugged. “Just get Jeff to the Rabbit Hole at nine.”

“At nine. Got it,” he said, nodding his head, but there was a smirk playing on his lips that was just begging to be smacked off.

Or kissed off, she realized with a gut-wrenching clarity that made her insides squirm uncomfortably.

“And I’ll bring Alice,” she reiterated, dragging her thoughts back to the couple at hand.

“Naturally.”

“We can challenge you to a game of pool!” she said, eagerly.

He shook his head, having played pool against her before. “Not a chance.”

“Coward,” she accused, stuffing a fry in her mouth.

He said nothing, just sat there and smirked while he chewed until Belle looked away. Her eyes fell on the papers on his desk and she remembered the problem he was having when she walked in.

“Hey, you know, the county clerk is next door to the library, you want me to run the files over after lunch?”

He stopped eating, considering her offer, then swallowed. “No, they’re confidential and it’s not your job, it’s Miss Blanchard’s.”

“You know I wouldn’t tell anyone what they were about. I wouldn’t even look.”

Another piercing look, then a softening of his shoulders as he sat back in his plush leather chair. “Yeah, I know. You’re not a gossip. But it’s not ethical, I can’t let you do it.”

Belle knew he was right, but chose to pretend to be annoyed anyway.

“Well, _fine_ ,” she said, with a careless shrug of her shoulders. “I’ll just meander _ethically_ back in half an hour and _ethically_ sit in my chair at my desk and _ethically_ do some _ethical_ paperwork while you _ethically_ deal with Mary Margaret.”

“You have ketchup on your… right there,” he told her, pointing at the corner of her mouth. He was smirking mercilessly at her, clearly not fooled for a bit.

Belle wiped at her mouth with a napkin, balling it up and throwing it at him when she was done. It bounced off his forehead, landing on his lap.

“Charming,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, picking up the napkin between two fingers and depositing it with great show into the wastebasket, but the way his eyes smiled at her belied the irritation in his voice.

“You love me and you know it,” she told him, wiggling smugly in her chair as she took another huge bite from her burger.

“You have your moments.” he said, looking at her fondly.

* * *

 

Belle prepared for the Rabbit Hole carefully, twisting her hair up in an artful chignon that left half of it hanging down on purpose — the older, more sophisticated sister of the messy bun look, and paid special attention to her eye makeup. The Rabbit Hole wasn’t fancy, it was more of a dive than anything, but she liked looking nice after hours. A small glass of wine on the bathroom sink, a great song blaring on the stereo, and a killer pair of Fuck Me shoes on her feet were all she needed to get into a great mood and she happily bounced around in anticipation of a successful night ahead.

She swung her hips in time to the music while she brushed on her second coat of mascara — only poking her eyelid twice in the process when she lost the rhythm. She wiped it off with the help of a cotton swab and some lotion, then surveyed the damage, debating another coat of mascara before deciding that two was enough. Some blush, a bit of tinted lip gloss and that should do it, she thought as she surveyed herself from side to side.

She deliberated for some time over the skinny jeans and the cashmere sweater that hung just so off her shoulder or the leather skirt and the blue, backless top. Sweater, top. Sweater, top. Why was it so hard to choose?

It’s not that she wanted to impress anyone in particular, but she knew Gold would show up looking sleek and expensive and handsome. She had to do her best to keep up with him.

Sweater, she decided with a nod. With her hair up and the shoulder down, it would do wonders for her neckline.

She delicately slipped it over her hairdo, pulling it down in place, then lowered her shoulder provocatively. The collar slipped and slipped until it hung, just so.

Perfect!

* * *

 

The Rabbit Hole was smoky and usually filled with the disreputable people of Storybrooke, but the most disreputable of them all was sitting at the bar, a glass of scotch in his hand and a suit that cost more than a normal person’s rent on his lean body. He’d showered and shaved and wore the purple shirt with the stripes that he knew she liked since she was the one who bought it for him. His cuff links glinted in the low light as he lifted his glass to his lips and the muscles in his neck moved underneath his skin as he swallowed.

It was an exquisite sight.

Belle slid up to him, whispering a sultry, “Miss me?” into his ear before he could notice her standing there, grinning up at him.

“Hey,” he said, casually, but the smirk he was wearing slid off his face when he turned his face and saw her. He inhaled sharply and his face lost some of the sharp edge that was ever-present, softening his eyes until he blinked and it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

Feeling mighty pleased, she hopped up onto the stool next to him and settled in, pretending her jeans weren't cutting off blood supply to vital bits of her anatomy. “Hey, yourself,” she said, carefully adjusting a curl by her ear. “Have Jefferson or Alice shown up yet?”

“Who?” he asked, momentarily taken aback before he remembered the reason why he was there.  “Oh! Uh, no. Not yet,” he said, clearing his throat and looking down at his drink.

She made a face, but perked up again when she remembered that it was still early — just past nine and Alice was bound to stride in at any moment. Jefferson was notoriously late for everything, but he would get here eventually.

She ordered a drink from the sour-faced bartender, then turned her attention back to Gold.

One hour and three Long Island Iced Teas later, Belle was resting her temple on his shoulder snorting down a laugh, his deep chuckle ruffling her hair into her face as he laughed with her.

“Oh God,” she groaned, her sides aching and her cheeks sore for smiling, sitting up and wiping at her eyes with the side of her thumb. “Oh! Oh no,” she said, looking around. “I forgot all about them!”

“Who?”

“Alice! Jeff.”

“Oh. Right. Look, Belle—”

She gasped and clutched at his arm. “You don't suppose they met up outside and took off with each other so you?”

He nodded, seriously. “Yes. Yes that is exactly what I think happened.”

She slapped her hand on the bar. “Awesome! Let’s celebrate!”  She stood up with her heels hooked over the rung of her stool, trusting Gold to catch her if she should topple over, and leaned over the bar. “Another round!” she called out, happily.

She flopped back down on the stool and leaned into her friend. He leaned back and together they held each other up until their drinks arrived.

He smelled divine, even in this shithole and she turned her head until her nose was almost buried into his suit lapel, inhaling deeply. Yes, divine. Food of the gods wearing a suit to die for and a smile that made her want to do things she shouldn’t be thinking about.

“Oh god, I’m hungry,” she asked looking up at him.

He smiled down at her, the warmth of his eyes doing strange things to her insides. Then he slowly slid the bowl of stale pretzels towards her.

She pushed it away, wrinkling her nose. “No. I want pie.”

He glanced at his watch. “Granny’s is closed.”

“I could make it,” she offered, eyes wide with possibilities.

“Grocery store’s closed, too.”

“I have everything I need at home,” she said, pounding a tiny fist on her thigh. “Except apples.” She slumped in defeat.

“Apples?” he asked, eyes gleaming wickedly. “I know where we can get some.”

* * *

 

Storybrooke was a small town, which meant that it only took a few minutes to stagger over to the mayor’s house, scale her fence, and climb the apple tree she had babied since she was a child. Regina Mill’s apples were prized in three states for their crisp texture and sweet flavor, and while they certainly weren’t the right kind for baking, Belle didn’t care. She wanted pie. She needed apples. Regina Mills had apples. She would just have marginally fewer of them by morning.

Gold stood at the base of the tree, holding her shoes and his cane in one hand, watching as Belle hoisted herself up over a branch, her ass pointing up in the air as she leaned too far to the other side before she caught herself.

“Careful!”

“So glad I didn’t wear the leather skirt,” she groaned into the bark. She pulled herself around and straddled the branch.

“What was that?” Gold asked, coming closer.

She turned her head and shushed him loudly. “Don’t get us caught,” she said, plucking an apple off and tossing it at him.

He caught it without effort and took a big bite out of it, chewing thoughtfully as he watched her reach for an apple just out of reach, ignoring eight similar ones just by her shoulder. “If you get arrested I’ll be your lawyer,” he said around the mouthful of apple. “I doubt you could afford my fees though. Not on your salary.”

“You’re family law, not- _oof_ -not criminal,” she said, grabbing at and missing the apple. Finally, she zeroed in on it and snatched it off the branch giving a triumphant “Ha!” as she tossed to to the ground. After that, the apples were much easier to find — they all seemed to be by her shoulders. She began flinging them to the ground at Gold’s feet heedless of his Italian loafers.

“Are you implying that I can't argue my way out of anything?” he asked indignantly, throwing the bitten apple over his shoulder as he dodged out of the way of the fruity onslaught.

She ignored him, trying to think for a moment, but her brain had turned to sludge and felt like it was dripping out of her ear. There was something important that she needed to tell him. Something about the apples. She looked down at the one in her hand. “I think we’ll need more apples,” she finally said sitting up, dismayed.

“Of course we do. We only have about fifteen as it is. How many do you need for a pie?”

Belle closed her eyes and tried to think of her mother’s recipe but it swirled away in the miasma of alcohol fumes. “I don’t know... A hundred?”

Gold looked around. The grass was dotted with them. “Def’nitely need more.”

She slumped, swaying a bit before catching herself. “I don’t have a basket. I need a basket,” she mumbled to herself before lifting up the hem of her sweater.

“What are you doing?” he hissed up at her, stumbling over the pile of fruit at his feet.

“I need something to carry them in,” she explained, her loud whisper carrying over the lawn. “Either my top or your jacket.”

“Keep your... shirt on,” he said, shrugging off his jacket tossing it onto the ground. “God, Belle.” He began kicking the apples onto it, scattering them willy-nilly in his quest to pile them up in one place.

“Hush,” she scolded. “You’ll wake up Regina.”

“She already knows we’re here,” he said, pointing toward the house.

“What?” Belle looked up and over to see their mayor — her _boss_ — was standing on the back porch in a silk robe, hands crossed over her chest and her face stormy. “Fuuuu _uuuck_!”

“Indeed,” Gold nodded. “Fuck.”

She quickly turned away in the sinking hopes that the mayor didn’t see her face. “Do you think she knows who it is?”

“I would say so. She’d have called the cops if she didn’t.”

Belle squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh god.”

He waved a hand, dismissively. “No, just Regina.”

“My job!” Belle squeaked out, gripping the tree trunk with her fingers.

“Don’t worry about that... I texted her we were coming.”

Her eyes flew open in shock. “What? Why?”

“Because I don’t want to get arrested!” he said, indignantly.

“I thought you said-you said that you could argue your way out of anything?”

“I can,” he reasoned. “But that doesn’t mean that I want to.”

She laid her head against the rough bark of the tree, hanging on against the sudden spinning of her career. “We’re going to regret this in the morning.”

“It’s already morning,” he pointed out, glancing at his watch for effect.

“I meant the morningier part of the morning not… not now.”

Belle groaned loudly the entire way off the tree, staggering a little on the landing then helped Gold pick the jacket up at the corners and lapels. She may be drunk and have gotten caught,  but she wasn’t leaving the apples behind.

They used the gate this time instead of scaling the fence, shushing each other loudly over their giggles all the way back to Belle’s apartment leaving a trail of apples in their wake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Belle continues on being Deliberately Obtuse and we’re all ready to smack her.

Three weeks after the Apple Incident Which Shall Not be Named, or Applemort as Belle called it, there had been no forward progress on the Jefferson and Alice project. Neither of them had given her any excuse as to why they both blew off the Rabbit Hole nor did they give a definitive answer on if they’d gone off on their own or not. They were evasive and entirely suspicious and Belle was ready to lock them both up in a closet to get them to confess when Things Happened at work, causing all sorts of minor but irritating chaos. Belle barely had time for herself let alone anyone else, but, on a crisp Saturday morning when she finally beat work into submission and got the wheels turning for another project she’d taken on, Belle decided that she _needed_ to see Gold. It had been too long since they spent time together other than a couple brief exchanges and she missed him terribly.

Belle laced her sneakers up tight and double-knotted the bows. After taking a few minutes to stretch, she put her earbuds in, selected her playlist and headed out for her morning run.

She ran all the way to Gold’s house which sat at the top a hill overlooking the town and the bay. It was beautiful, but a pain in the ass to navigate when the road iced over in the winter.

By the time she arrived, she was dripping with sweat and overheated and almost regretting her decision, but seeing as she was already there, she wobbled up the steps and rang the doorbell, bending over with her hands on her knees trying to catch her breath. The door opened just then and she raised her head enough to see a pair of fuzzy tiger-striped slippers with soft claws where the toes would be, one paw tapping impatiently on the doorstep. The sight of his naked ankles distracted her for a brief second before she stood up to find Gold still in his robe, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the doorknob in the other. His hair was mussed from sleep, hanging about his face that hinted at a delightful array of carnal activities to be had, and there was a layer of growth on his face that she’d never seen before. Her fingers itched to rub at the stubble to see how scratchy it would be.

“It’s a little early, no?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe. He lifted his cup to his smirking lips and loudly slurped at her.

She popped up, bouncing on her toes in excitement, “I’m having a ball!”

His smirk was expected, arriving in a slow, knowing manner until it slid into place. “Always did know how to show a girl a good time,” he said, smugly pleased with himself.

Belle flapped a hand at him. “No, no, no. I mean I’m hosting a charity ball! You know, for the library?”

Understanding dawned in his face. “Ah, I see. Come in and tell me all about it.” He backed up and let her in.

He took her straight through to the back porch where the view of the bay was the best. He had a small table and a couple of chairs set up just behind the roses, which were nothing but sticks in a pile of dirt at this time of year. She sat down, rubbing at her sore calf while Gold went back in to refill his coffee.

“So,” he said when he was back, setting a cup of coffee in front of her, which she grabbed eagerly, warming her hands on the heated ceramic. “A ball. In this tiny town where the only thing that happens is Prom?”

“It’s perfect!” she said, ignoring his sarcastic tone. “What better place to fall in love than over a bit of dancing and some cheap wine?”

He stared at her for a moment, the cup held halfway to his parted mouth. “Come again,” he whispered, lowering his hand slowly.

“You remember? Jefferson and Alice? We’re trying to set them up?”

“Oh. Them. Right.” He absently rubbed at the lettering on the side of the mug with his thumb — it read “World’s Worst Lawyer”. Belle had given it to him, but not before she’d crossed out “Worst” and replaced it with “Best”. In pink sharpie.

“Did you forget?” she asked, disappointed.

“So that’s the formula then,” he said, ignoring her question. “Cavorting about in fancy pants and getting piss drunk?”

She tsked at him. “You have no romance in you, Gold. Picture this.” She spread her fingers out, lowering her voice until it was just a whisper for effect. “A magical fairytale setting, romantic music, shimmering candlelight — except we’ll have those flameless candles,” she said, quickly. “We don’t want a repeat of what happened at the PTA fundraiser.”

He suppressed a shudder. “No, we don’t.”

“So what you you think?” She crossed her arms, leaning over the table towards him as she waited breathlessly for his opinion.

He leaned over too, glancing at her lips for a moment before looking back up, his eyes darker now that he was so near, drawing her in closer. Belle resisted the urge to lick her lips. Then she beat down the urge to lick his lips. It was a very near thing. He was inches away and very real and startlingly beautiful in the morning light and she wondered how she could contrive to see him like this more often — early in the morning, dressed in pajamas, and sipping coffee on his porch, completely relaxed and smiling... The brief thought of a way this could happen again — this time without a sweaty jog — flit through her mind, barely flashing before it was gone again, elusive and immaterial as if it had never existed.

“Magical fairytale setting?” he repeated, lifting an eyebrow at her.  

Belle blinked then sat up, brightly. “Yes! That’s the theme. We all dress up as some sort of fairytale creature. You could… you could wear antlers in your hair and—”

He sat back, scoffing, “Yeah, that’s _not_ happening.”

She made a face at him, slapping at his shoulder with the back of his hand. “A wizard’s hat then. Something.”

“ _No_ ,” he said, but there was a lingering half smile on his lips that made her heart skip a beat.

“Not even for me?” she asked, sticking her lip out in a well-practised pout that had gotten results before.

“I’d sooner go naked!”

Another heart-skipping moment as the thought darted around her brain like a hummingbird pulling an x-rated banner, but tamped that down, deliberately ignoring the way something vital inside of her pulled at it. “That’s an option,” she said, holding a finger to her chin thoughtfully.

He stared at her aghast. “Oh god.”

“You could go as The Emperor in the Emperor’s New Clothes.” She poked at him, grinning impishly.

“No.”

“What about Lady Godiva? With your hair—” she said, flicking at a lock covering his ear.

“Are you out of your _mind_?” he asked, completely flustered and turning a faint shade of red before he turned away.

She stopped, sorry that she’d teased him into a bad mood. She wanted to make him laugh and spend some time with him, but she only managed to upset her best friend instead. She looked at his profile and the way his nose sloped down into that weird little point wishing she could make it up to him somehow. A sudden urge to kiss it popped up out of nowhere and her eyes widened before the feeling died down a little, settling there in the back of her mind to be brought out later and closely examined. Much later. Maybe.

“You’d make a lovely fawn,” she said, wistfully.

His shoulders slumped as he gave up, shaking his head slightly. “You’d be better at it,” he replied, turning toward her with a curious smile lingering on his lips.

“Will you at least go to my ball?”

He gave her a real smile then, his eyes crinkling up marvelously and full of warmth. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.”

“You can wear the tiger slippers…”

He put his head on the table, groaning. “Oh god.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sundays were Belle’s only consistent day off and she usually spent them either catching up on sleep followed by an afternoon of indulgent personal maintenance or she was with Gold in some antique shop down the coast followed by a late lunch together, then dinner, and sometimes a decadent dessert.

This Sunday was personal maintenance day and she was sitting at her tiny kitchen table by the window, keeping one eye on the foot traffic below and one eyes on her manicure. She was halfway through painting her nails a glorious shade of shimmering blue when a certain gait two stories below and across the street caught her attention. She peered out to get a better look, heart thumping happily. Gold was there, heading heading towards the pier. Perfect! She would join him.

She scrambled for her phone, trying to pick it up with just the pads of her fingers, then gave up, scooping it off the table and into her hands all the while she gauged his progress. He’d stopped to pet Pongo.

She tapped her phone on the window, banging until Gold looked up at the noise, squinting in the sunlight until he saw her. She held up her phone and pointed at it. “I'm calling you! Now!” she yelled.

He dug his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the screen before looking back up at her, doubtfully. When it finally rang, he held it up to his ear.

“Hey! Come up, will you?” Belle said, waving her hand at him through the window. She thought she saw him roll his eyes at her, but he pocketed the phone and turned towards her door anyway, shaking his head the entire way.

“You have a sense of drama,” he said when she opened her door. He raised an eye at her cut off sweatpants and baggy shirt, biting his lip to keep the smile from becoming a grin.

She rolled her eyes at him, certain he’d seen her in worse. “You mean a sense of humor,” she said.

“I mean what I said.” He looked around the room looking in mild confusion. “Why did I have to come all the way up here?”

Belle stared at him, lost for a moment because right then she'd forgotten what it was she wanted him for. All she knew was that she saw him walking by and she had to talk to him right that minute.

“I…” she began, searching for the reason she needs him other than that she needed him. She glanced behind him, her eyes landing on her jacket hanging from a hook by the door. “Walk with me?” she asked, pushing past him to grab it.

“I was just doing that,” he protested, but he took the jacket from her hands and held it out for her.

“Yes, but not with me,” she said, sliding her arm through the sleeve, waiting for him to wrap the rest around her so she can put the other arm through. “What is it?” she asked when that didn’t happen.

“You only have eight nails painted,” he said, looking down at her hand dangling from the cuff. Two nails were bare.

“Uh…” She glanced up at him, sheepishly. “I forgot to be honest.”

His cheeks twitched up in a soft smile. “I can see that,” he said, pulling her jacket off and hanging it back on the hook. He sat in her seat, briefly looking out of the window. He was quiet, pensive almost before propping his cane up against the table. “Come on,” he said, indicating the other chair with a flourish of his hand. He picked up the bottle of nail polish and unscrewed the cap and made a face at the smell.

“What are you doing?” she asked, fascinated by the tiny bottle in his large hands.

“I’m doing the rest of them. Can’t go out half done, you’ll wind up walking in circles.”

“You’re gonna paint my nails for me?” she said, her voice squeaking as she slid into her chair, holding out her hand for him. “I’ll need a second coat.”

“Mmm.”

She watched as he carefully dotted her nail with a small dab of varnish before smoothing it out with the brush. He was bent over her hand, his hair tumbling over his face in a silver-streaked wave. His tongue poked out a bit in concentration while he held the side of it  steady with the fingers of his left hand while he painted with his right.

“You do this before?” she asked, curiously.

“A few times,” he said, his forehead wrinkled up in a frown of concentration. “Old girlfriends,” he said by way of explanation then clamped his mouth shut as if that would be enough. Finished with the two nails, he leaned over and blew on them, sending a tickle of warm breath over her fingers.

They never talked of his old girlfriends ever and it was a subject which Belle was intensely interested in.

“Girlfriends?” she asked casually, watching as he licked his lips, unconsciously licking her own lips as she followed the movement. Weird how she’d never noticed how long his lashes were, she thought. They probably tickled the cheekbones of those old girlfriends when he kissed them, whoever they were.

He glanced at her with a teasing glint in his eyes. “It was a while ago.”

She placed her other hand in front of him for the second coat. “How long is a while?”

He merely shrugged and she would have hit him except he was still holding the tips of her fingers in the palm of his hand and she didn’t want to smudge her nail polish.

“You never talk about them,” she said, staring at him.

“Hmm?” He was deliberately avoiding her gaze, but she could see the glint of amusement in his eyes just the same. He was being a smug tease and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Your _ex_ -girlfriends,” she said, emphasizing the “ex” with surgical precision. She felt a frown coming on and pressed her lips together to stave it off. She would _not_ ruin her own mood. She wouldn’t.

He let go of her hand, sliding his fingers from hers, his palms a mere whisper against the table surface as he sat back in the chair, face carefully blank, but his eyes looked strained now that the subject had turned. “Nothing to tell. They’re exes for a reason.”

She heaved a sigh, very unsatisfied with his answer.

“You, uh, ever think of dating anyone around here?” she asked, hating how her voice sounded leaden to her ears.

He stared at her. Stared as if trying to read an ancient book in some dead language and he only had a cracker jack box decoder ring to figure it out. Finally he looked down, pulling his hands into his lap.

They were quiet for a while then, each lost in their own thoughts. Then, with some hesitation, Gold said, “You're not… you’re not planning on setting me up with anyone are you?”

Belle’s head jerked up in shock, her mouth hanging open as she searched for a reply. She had, but... But… But! She snatched the nail polish and rolled it in her palms, nervously. “Oh. Uh, no. I’ve thought about it, but I can't see you with anyone around here. No one in town really screams ‘Mr. Gold’ you know?” Her wooden laugh died down just as soon as it started.

“Not recently,” he muttered to himself.

She curled her hand around the bottle, squeezing it tightly. “I'm sorry?”

“Hmm?” He glanced at her, his eyes showing the barest flicker of hurt before it flit away so quickly that it may have just been a trick of the light. “Just a quip,” he said with a tiny, sad smile before looking away again.  

She watched him as he brooded, the light outlining his noble face in a golden halo. His was mouth turned down at the corners. That wasn't right, though. He was smiling just a minute ago; had her hand in his and looking at her as if there was nothing else more important in the world than her manicure. Why did he have to mention ex-girlfriends? Why did she have to pursue it?

His face was pinched now as if someone told him that his dog was ugly and his tie was out of style. The lines around his mouth deepened as he pressed his lips together. She didn’t like that. She’d hit a nerve somehow and that wasn’t what she wanted to do. Maybe he would have liked a different answer?

She found herself babbling, wanting to sooth that hurt look from his face at any cost. “Because I-I-I can, if you really want me to. I mean, do you have anyone in mind? At all? Here in town? Someone? A girl?” She held her breath as she waited for his answer, confused with herself. Six months ago she would have loved to have set him up with someone. He was her best friend and his happiness mean the world to her, but now the very idea made her heart ache and her insides turn liquid. What was wrong with her?

There was a heart-stopping moment where he looked at her intently, his eyes roaming over her face as if it held answer to an unspoken question, then, as fast as lightning, the look was gone, replaced with a bland facsimile of his pleasant self. He cleared his throat and ran a hand over the corners of his mouth before he said, “No. Thanks.”

“Okay,” she replied in a tiny voice. “Just, ah, just let me know if you change your mind.” She swallowed the lump that appeared in her throat, feeling terrible now.

He just gave a short, bitter huff of a laugh that didn’t help her confidence any.

She thought quickly, mentally rifling through a series of subjects before she remembered one very important thing. “Hey,” she said, walking her fingers along the table to poke at him carefully so she didn’t get paint on his coat. “You want to go to the ball with me?”

“Hmm?” He turned back to her, his brown eyes melancholy and strained around the corners.  

She had a strange urge to sooth the lines with her lips, to kiss the stress away. The feeling squeezed at her lungs, leaving her almost breathless from the want of it and she nearly forgot what she was going to say. “I still need a date to the ball,” she said, after a moment, completely unaware that she’d been staring at him.

He raised an eyebrow at her, waiting expectantly. “Surely Will—”

“No, he can't dance and hates events that require things like ties or matching socks. Besides I'd rather go with you,” she told him, truthfully.

“High praise indeed,” he said, and there was that smile now. Small, but there.

“And we look good together.”

“I suppose that's what really matters,” he said, mock seriously, his eyebrow lifting pointedly.

She bumped him with the top of her hand, lest she get nail polish on his coat. “Stop it, you know what I mean. We fit together, the two of us.”

“Yeah, we do.” He sat there for a moment, watching the skyline and the deepening shadows before he spoke in a voice so low he may have been talking to himself. “I'd love to take you to the ball, Belle.”

Her heart jumped a bit, strange because she knew he would go with her. It wasn't as if he had a choice…

“I'm wearing gold,” she told him, remembering her ethereal gown comprised of gossamer, barely there lace.

He barely blinked. “Are you?”

“Mmhmm. You’ll love it.” She was sure of it because she picked it out with him in mind.

“I’m sure I will,” he said with a heavy sigh. “You look lovely in anything.”


End file.
